Broken Glass
by Literate
Summary: He was just a tiny fragile piece of the love-stained glass window of the not so surreal drama that was the world, who needed to love and to be loved. He hadn’t meant to fall in love... not really. TamaXHika. 3 Word SHINE Challenge.


... It's the amusing couple again! 8D Missed them?

This is a semi-introspecting, semi-symbolic one-shot that came from the **3 Word** **Challenge** by **RandomFun**, as a part of the _SHINE Challenges_. (Join in, if you want.) Anyhoo, the prompt was _broken glass_, and I took it two different ways. :3 One obviously referring to Tamaki's "family" idea, the other... more literally. :D

Warnings: Rated T for a prompt kiss, tons of implications of love between two males. TamaXHika. In Tama's POV, sorta. Future fic. Disclaimer: I don't own Ouran, but it's psychological ideas are amusing to write about.

* * *

He hadn't meant to fall in love.

Not really.

He had just wanted to keep their little family wound tightly together, so he would always have friends he could play with, he could depend on.

He hadn't meant to fall in love.

Falling in love was bad— his mother and father had fallen in love.

Then they were separated.

And he wondered, wondered, wondered _why_ such a wonderful thing was destroyed.

(_no, it isn't your fault, Tamaki_)

He didn't want to be broken apart.

He didn't want to _love_ anyone.

It was too much, too much for his young mind to handle.

Tamaki was ten when he vowed that he would never fall in love.

Tamaki was seventeen when he really did.

-

-

Tamaki was fifteen when he founded the Ouran High School Host Club.

It was to be a game, a simple game in which he could please the ladies (that he always loved to do), and he didn't need to make any long-lasting connections with them that could tear them apart and break their happiness. And then, the separation wouldn't be so rough.

As for the other hosts, they were just all friends, a family of sorts. Kyouya, the mother; Hikaru, Kaoru, the sons; and Hani-senpai, Mori-senpai as their parent guardians. Or something like that. It didn't matter, in effect, who was what in the Host Club family, because they were just a _family_ and family don't _love_ each other.

It didn't change, not that much, when Haruhi came in. Just more blushing, just more clumsiness, just more hyperactivity and insanity that the host club was not used to. His little daughter threw the fairytale off its careful, precise balancing act; but soon, his infatuation died down and Haruhi was treated just like any normal host that was in their not so normal family.

Kyouya knew (of course, he knew) that it was not all. Tamaki was in denial; he never wanted to fall in love, scared of the consequences that came with it, scared of being separated from his love like his mother and father was.

That's why he hadn't confessed to Haruhi.

Not in his junior year, not ever.

-

-

Five years after his graduation and he's finally gotten (slightly) settled down.

Despite dating for about a good four years, it was the first time the both of them had _stayed_ in one room, and to say Tamaki was nervous was an extreme understatement.

Not nervous about anything _per say_, but just nervous in general.

What if he kicked his lover off the bed? What if he annoyed his lover with constant commoner fetishes? What if his lover became irritated _with the amount of time he would use to brush his teeth_?!

(_what if they were separated_)

He swallowed a deep breath, his violet eyes running across the luxury condo that they were "sharing." He wasn't sure how to start up a conversation; his partner usually instigated them all.

And with the amount of things that Hikaru was trying to unpack and toss around the room, Tamaki was sure that he was making zero effort to talk to him.

Not that Hikaru was aware of the fact that Tamaki wanted to talk to him anyway.

Maybe it was the glasses.

Yes, that was it.

The thin metal frame with thin lens covering the normally sharp, _bright_ hazel eyes.

Hikaru had prescribed _glasses_.

_Without his boyfriend's explicit permission_.

Well, it was more of Kaoru prescribing it for him, but that wasn't the point. It was the fact that Hikaru was a little near-sighted that bothered him.

It meant, Hikaru couldn't see his problems as clearly as before (if he could see his problems at all in the first place). It meant, Hikaru's sight was too clouded by blurry figures to attend to the neglected Suou who was currently perched on one of the barstools near the kitchen area of the flat.

And if Tamaki thought about it clearly enough, then this entire situation was the very thing that he had been trying to avoid since he was ten, since he vowed to never fall in love.

He knew, personally, that separation was painful. And Hikaru knew, all to well.

And he knew, it wasn't pity that attracted the younger male to first offer his company; it wasn't spontaneous either. It wasn't anything that Hikaru was like, at all. This, Hikaru thought well enough, even though he knew, fully well, that Tamaki didn't want to think about it at all.

(_after all, there was his family to take care of, and falling in love with his son was- no, no it wasn't accepted, it wasn't accepted _at all)

He hadn't meant to fall in love.

Not really.

He simply took Hikaru's hand.

He didn't think about the magic spell he had weaved over the six other despairing hosts. He didn't think about upturning the white carriage that he drove through high school life. He didn't think about the midnight, he didn't think about the time when the entire fairytale would shatter.

All he felt was a hand in his, and he thought, that yes, _Hikaru didn't want to fall in love either_.

-

-

Even years after the last of them graduated from the refuge of Ouran, their timeless façade had never disappeared.

Despite protests, he still called Hikaru and Kaoru his son_s_. Despite eye-rolling, he still called Haruhi his daughter. And despite cold shoulders, he still called Kyouya _mother_.

It was a habit, a safety belt. Something that he could always depend on, no matter what.

Even if grandmother had found a particular flaw in her bastard of a grandson, there was nothing stopping her from breaking the bonds of friendship.

Before he was a Suou, he was Tamaki.

Before he was a lover, he was a friend.

If just to satisfy her curiosity, he'd admit that his close relationship with one of the former _male_ hosts was simply friendship.

Then their love wouldn't be broken.

Then they won't be separated.

But, he still didn't want to fall in love.

He still didn't want the too-good-to-be-true fantasy to end.

He still didn't care that their relationship wasn't _true_ love.

(_denialdenial_denial_denialdenial)_

...not really.

-

-

He hadn't meant to fall in love.

It just _happened_.

Just like how the Host Club happened, Haruhi happened, and their 'more-than-acquaintances' relationship happened.

Just like how Anne-Sophia and Yuzuru happened to fall in love and be torn apart.

Just like how he heard his grandmother happened to despise him, his mother, and everything he represented.

No matter what he did.

No matter what he believed in.

No matter that he was just a _tiny fragile piece of the love-stained glass window of the not so surreal drama that was the world _who needed to love and to be loved.

He hadn't meant to fall in love.

He just did whatever love-sick fool did when someone finally loved _him_.

(_love them back_)

Hikaru was still stubbornly ignoring him, if the black earphones plugged into his ears said anything, still unpacking the little bits of furniture he decided to buy from the marketplaces that were settled on the ground floor of the city, twenty-two stories from their residence. Occasionally, he would push up his glasses, in that refined and polished way that Tamaki thought only Kyouya was capable of.

But Kyouya was the only person whom he had deemed fit to don glasses.

Hikaru was not.

And with dejected frustration pooling in the bottom of his stomach (and completely forgetting that he was nervous about sleeping in the same room Hikaru was sleeping in), he slid off the smooth seat and walked over the tile, tile, carpet until he reached the table on which the twenty-two year old was dumping little trinkets onto.

"Hikaru…" his hand grazed the angle of his shoulder blade; Hikaru didn't flinch.

"Hmm?" Hikaru cocked his head, staring at a piece of random fabric that he had brought. He squinted slightly, still completely oblivious to his older boyfriend.

"Why are you ignoring me?" Tamaki resisted a pout.

"Eh?" the Hitachiin blinked, lowering the thing he now deemed a rag onto the glass and turning around half-way. Tamaki could only make a tiny noise of resentment, as his glasses slid down slightly, exposing Hikaru's confused expression, "What are you talking about?"

Tamaki almost-whined and waved his hands desperately in the air, trying to convey emotions that Hikaru couldn't understand.

Hikaru furrowed his brow, "I don't ignore you."

"Yes, you do," Tamaki pushes the shopping bags discreetly away from them with his foot, before latching a hand onto Hikaru's shoulder. He sighed, his sapphire eyes almost _begging_, and he _wanted _Hikaru to _understand_.

(_that maybe for once, he wouldn't be the father and he wouldn't be the son, and they would finally be a couple officially recognized by both of them_)

Tamaki didn't waste any time in expressing this, sliding his hand around Hikaru's waist, his clumsy movements tripping both of them-

-onto the sofa. The bumpy, cloth-covered sofa.

Not like they really cared.

Somewhere on the side, Hikaru heard a faint crash against cold tiles, before his lips were covered by another soft pair, nudging at his lips. Confusedly, he reciprocated, feeling as Tamaki shifted into a better position above him, where the Suou felt a strange sense of exhilaration, being dominant, being on top.

Being in a _not so friendship kind of relationship_.

"W-Wait," Hikaru said, almost breathlessly, pulling away from Tamaki's soft of resilient touches; he blinked blankly, before his thin fingers dance across his face. His eyes crossed, though not as sharp as before, a _get off of me before you die_ kind of look. He sighed, lowering a hand towards the ground, feeling sightlessly for the glasses that had fallen and-

"Shattered."

Hikaru blinked, "What?"

Tamaki simpered slightly, knowing he would be killed sooner or later, pulling Hikaru's hand from the ground, "They're broken."

He widened his eyes, "What the hell-"

He's cut off, a daring, bold move. A tongue clashed against his defenses, before he let out a defeated groan, his hazel eyes submitting to the unusual pressure against his mouth. Tamaki had never done this before; maybe, maybe, _maybe_ Tamaki was finally beginning to understand. Hikaru's eyes lidded half-way as Tamaki pulled from the harsher-than-needed kiss, his breath soothing his uneven beats.

"You look better without glasses, Hikaru."

Hikaru raised a lazy brow, completely pinned against the sofa by his boyfriend, "You think?"

Tamaki paused slightly, his breath catching nervously, his violet eyes staring into calm hazel.

And this was the very thing that he has been denying himself of for his entire life.

This was the very reason why he didn't let the carriage turn into a pumpkin or let the clock tower stop at midnight.

(_love_)

And he _needed_ it.

He didn't need the lies, the half-truths, the fractured, broken, doomed fairytale of family and friendship-

"Yeah," Tamaki smiled hesitantly, (all around them laid broken glass) before he forced more conviction into his cautious smile, "Yeah."

Hikaru deadpanned him, his lips in a neutral frown, the annoyed Hitachiin look in his eyes.

"And you broke my glasses just to tell me that?"


End file.
